Family Reunion
by KRRouse
Summary: Two weeks prior to “Curse of the Black Pearl”, Pintel and Ragetti make port with the rest of Barbossa's crew for gathering supplies, only to cross paths with a curious stranger.
1. The Encounter

**Family Reunion**

It didn't seem to make sense at first.

Pintel chuckled darkly to himself as he gazed out over the still gray water, then turned his head to glance back at the _Black Pearl_'s gently bobbing outline far behind him. It didn't seem to make sense at all.

What would the _Pearl_'s crew need to make port for? What reason could a ship full of men with no use for food or wenches possibly have for going on land? Any common ninny who knew so much as a rat's whisker about the legendary Aztec Curse would've probably wondered such a thing, but—as Pintel snarkily concluded—those common ninnies were called so for a reason. Just because Captain Barbossa and his men were immortal didn't mean their weapons and supplies had the same ever-lasting strength; the _Black Pearl_ needed to restock, especially now, and land was the only place where she could do so.

That was why the black-sailed ship was anchored far off the coast of Hispaniola this late afternoon, and that was why her crew was now rowing to shore in a pair of longboats.

A burly pirate of almost sixty years, Pintel saw the world through a pair of leering yellowed eyes and sported a temper even shorter than his slighting stature. His closest companion, a rail-thin man named Ragetti, had once joked that a fellow's patience must have resided in his hair; this strange notion seemed rather fitting, as Pintel was completely bald except for a wispy horseshoe of long gray hair that still clung to the sides of his head. The stocky buccaneer hadn't quite appreciated the humor of such a concept, to say the least, and he'd given Ragetti a hard elbow to the gut to show it.

Pintel forced back another laugh as he recalled the exchange, and seeing the subdued grin on his weathered face, Ragetti smiled as well. Up until that moment, the younger pirate had been happily preoccupied with his knife, casually poking each of his fingertips with it to see which one felt its sharp prick the most. Pain, one of the many feelings that had been dulled by their ten-year curse, was a funny sensation to him now, and he reveled and laughed at his ability to feel it in such a small dose. The sight of Pintel trying to cover up a smirk, however, was an even sillier thing to behold, and so Ragetti lowered his tiny blade and stared at his mate.

"What's funny?" he asked almost inaudibly.

Pintel whirled around at the sudden question, then shook his head dismissively as he looked away again. "Nuffin'."

Beside him, Ragetti nodded and chuckled dumbly. "I fink nuffin's funny too." Then with that, he turned his attention away from Pintel and resumed entertaining himself. This time, however, the lanky pirate decided to do it in a slightly more disgusting way.

Pintel heard the dull squishing noise behind him, followed closely by the sound of creaking wood, and a second later, there was a small _pop_ as something tiny was pulled free from its proper home. The bald man wrinkled his face oddly at the little symphony, and then a look of dreadful recognition suddenly flashed in his eyes. He had heard each of those sounds countless times before, and he tensed slightly as he recalled the unsavory image that always went with them. Turning once again, Pintel cautiously lowered his eyes to see what Ragetti had in his bony hands now. And sure enough…

"Uh!" the stocky pirate grimaced in repulsion. "Wotcha' got _that_ fing out for, Rags?"

Ragetti's face was locked in a silly grin as he looked up at his companion again—this time with only one eye. "I likes lookin' at it."

But Pintel would hear none of this, and swatted his hands impatiently at the wooden sphere in his friend's hands—a false eyeball. "Well put it back! Yeh make me sick every time yeh does that!"

"It ain't real," Ragetti pointed out passively.

"I don't care, put it back in!"

The younger pirate would've complied right then, but Pintel had no patience when it came to the wooden prosthetic. Leaning over, the older man raised one of his muscular arms and promptly slapped Ragetti in the back of the head. The scrawny fellow toppled forward in his seat from the blow, and with perfect but unplanned precision, he smacked his face right into his undisturbed hands. When Rags sat upright again, the splintery orb was lodged inside his right socket once more, twitching and wiggling about as he tried to adjust its position.

Pintel scowled at the sight and stared ahead, trying to ignore the annoyed glares from the other crewmen around them. He always hated it when Ragetti did that with his fake eye—it was revolting enough in any context, but seeing that sightless brown ball gaping up at him from Rags's thin hands was made all the worse by the sight of that empty black socket where it belonged. It was a disturbing reminder of how the younger man had lost his eye in the first place, and that gave Pintel nothing but a sickening twinge of guilt…

Unfazed by the rough gesture, Ragetti reached over and tapped on his mate's bald head to get his attention. "Oi! What's we comin' 'ere for again?"

The other rolled his eyes impatiently, abandoning his grim thoughts. "I told yeh: we's comin' 'ere t'get more gun powder. We didn't find enough at the last town we sacked, so we's goin' _'ere_ for it. Aye?"

Ragetti bobbed his dopey head in understanding, then began poking himself with his knife again. There was a brief pause, and then the lanky fellow giggled again.

"Aye…" he murmured to himself, still wiggling his wooden replacement. "Eye. Aye. Aye-eye!"

Pintel just ground his teeth, silently debating whether or not he should give Ragetti a _black_ "eye-aye" and end it.

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Traditionally, a pirate crew in need of something they could only find on land would have no trouble getting it; they needed only to sail to the nearest port, tie their vessel to the docks, and step off. Unfortunately, telling fantastic stories and creating legends was another ageless—and thus, unavoidable—buccaneer tradition, and that was why Barbossa had been forced to drop anchor so far off shore this day. Pirates spooked easily, and there wasn't a doubt in his mind that they would spook something terrible if they saw the _Black_ _Pearl_ with its infamous black sails on the horizon.

This wasn't to say, however, that ten men rowing into the harbor in nothing but a pair of longboats wouldn't still turn a few heads.

One such head belonged to a tall, thin sailor seated near his own ship at the docks, repairing a tattered fishing net. He was an older man, evident by his weathered face and gray-tinted beard, and he wore a pale brown coat that wasn't quite filthy enough to look like it really belonged to him. His scraggly hair was covered by a muddy blue bandanna, and when he caught sight of Barbossa's pitiful-looking fleet, he blinked at it with a pair of equally blue eyes.

A smirk appeared on his lips then, and setting down his net, he went over to greet the shortchanged captain.

Still in his boat, Barbossa's face twisted into a foul sneer the instant he saw the old pirate making his way towards them down the long pier.

"These be _all_ your ships, mate?" the stranger asked him with a laugh.

"These be transports from the _real_ ship that's anchored a ways off shore," the cursed captain replied brusquely.

The man in the blue bandanna dragged his foot over the rotted planks beneath him. "Well these docks ain't just 'ere for the barnacles, y'know."

"Aye, but it ain't in me best interest to use 'em for my ship."

The stranger looked puzzled and amused all at once. "It's better to leave a ship floatin' out of reach at sea than tyin' it off at a dock?"

"Aye, in this case, it be." Barbossa made no attempt to hide his impatience. Behind him in the second boat, Pintel and Ragetti exchanged a knowing glance.

The stranger on the dock still wouldn't back off. "And why's that?" he asked coolly. "'Cause she's 'bout ready to sink and can't handle the extra trip?"

Barbossa scowled. "Because I _just_ might decide to use her _cannons_ to _fire away_ at any man who sees fit to pry into what business be mine and not his!"

"I fink a captain who's been sailin' for days and needs somewhere to tie 'is ship would decide to use _his_ cannons to _fire away_ at any pair of wee boats what're _takin' up_ the last dock left."

There was a pause as Barbossa eyed the meddlesome pirate, trying to figure him out. Pintel seemed equally curious about the stranger. What did it matter to the thin-faced bugger that they were in longboats? Or didn't he care at all, and was simply looking for a laugh at their crew's expense? At last, the _Pearl_'s captain ceased his pondering, and lifted his bearded chin to speak in a cold, haughty tone.

"Won't be a problem." After all, his crew didn't need longboats to reach their ship again.

Satisfied by this, the stranger smiled and bowed his head respectfully. "Happy sailin' and sinkin', then." With that, he turned and left the dock.

Barbossa barely even waited for him to go before stepping out of the boat. As soon as he had both boots firmly on the planks, he turned and beckoned sharply for his crew to do likewise. In a matter of minutes, both boats were tied securely to the dock posts, and all of their passengers were officially standing in Hispaniola. The captain delayed their mission once more to recruit a watcher for the tiny vessels, and as soon as Koehler grudgingly accepted his assignment, Barbossa announced that the other gents had one hour to rendezvous.

Pintel nudged Ragetti jokingly. "The way _he_ struts about, it'll take two."

The two stifled their laughter and paused to glance around, temporarily lost. It felt like ages since either one of them had set foot on land without the intent to burn everything on it to cinders. This was a pirate port, overflowing with residents as hardened and cutthroat as they were, and their only mission here was to carry out a business transaction. Pintel couldn't quite describe it, but somehow, the thought of this disappointed him.

Ten straight years of sacking towns would do that to a man, he supposed.

"Where d'we go?" Ragetti finally asked him.

The older man scrunched his face in thought. "Well the way I sees it, we could just go straight out that ways, and I'm pretty sure there was a tavern there what had gunpowder in stock…"

Off to their right, the pirate who'd questioned Barbossa earlier had gathered up his net and was off on his own mission now, still laughing to himself as he recalled the standoffish conversation. Ragetti easily spotted the blue bandanna from across the docks, and while Pintel continued to think out loud beside him, he allowed his one eye to follow the odd stranger.

As he neared the mismatched pair, the man seemed to sense that he was being watched, and he casually stopped to send the younger pirate a questioning glance.

And then he stopped.

Ragetti edged back awkwardly. What'd started as a curious fleeting look from the stranger had suddenly become a direct stare. The older pirate blinked, unsure of something, then turned to face Ragetti more openly as he studied the dark blonde lad. Another tense moment of scrutiny passed, and then, as abruptly as he'd stopped in his tracks, the stranger's puzzled gaze turned to one of utter shock.

Ragetti instinctively stepped back and lowered his eyes to the dock. The man's steely blue eyes were staring straight through him, and that worn old face was strained with disbelief—even horror. It was overwhelming, the feeling of those eyes burrowing into him, and Ragetti squirmed uneasily as he tried to ignore his observer.

Oblivious to the conflict unfolding beside him, Pintel rambled on. "…Then again, I fink the owner had a mishap wif that powder and sent the 'ole place up in blazes." He lifted one eyebrow in thought. "A'course, that _was_ ten years ago…"

The stranger continued to stare at Ragetti, frozen in staggering realization. He was powerless to look away, even as he saw how much he was bothering the young man. His mind had been sent into a whirlwind from the shock of his discovery, and only a single, agonized thought was able to push its way through the tearing winds.

It couldn't be.

He shook his head gently, watching as the scrawny young sailor glanced back up at him timidly. It couldn't be. It couldn't be.

At last, Ragetti's considerable lack of input caught Pintel's attention, and the shorter pirate turned to look at his friend's troubled face. Once this registered, Pintel followed that single darting eye and spotted the cause of the distress standing just a few paces ahead. The stocky man scowled in recognition. Not _this_ sot again.

He glanced up at Ragetti again to be sure, and with a sharp double take, he realized what must have brought on the unnerving stare-down.

Bulging in its socket, revealed beyond any doubt by the bright afternoon light, Ragetti's wooden eye was whirling and twitching out of control.

Once more, the familiar wave of guilt came over Pintel at the sight of it, but he quickly shoved his grim emotions aside and turned to glare at the stranger again.

"Oi, wot?" he sneered at the man. "Ain't never seen a lad wif one eye b'fore?"

The other pirate continued to stare, and failing to see the infinite pain in his blue eyes, Pintel stepped forward and continued. "Eh? Only used t'seein' them wif black patches?"

But the other man just stared, beyond words.

Pintel scowled. So that's how this was going to be. Without another thought, he swiftly took his thin companion by the arm and led him forward. "Come on, Rags."

The burly pirate made a point of walking directly past the stranger as they left, just so he could ram one of his broad shoulders against the bandanna-clad fellow's, roughly shoving him aside. The force of the unfriendly gesture spun the taller man around, leaving him to continue staring in disbelief at the now retreating Ragetti. Pintel sensed this, but not wanting to ruin the moment by glancing back, simply nudged his younger mate between the shoulder blades as he continued to steer him away. Before the intrusive on-looker could even attempt to say anything, both of them had disappeared into the crowd.

Alone once more, the man in the blue bandanna finally tore his eyes away from the pair and down at his damaged net, which he failed to recall ever dropping. He quietly bent down to retrieve it, and with the sad, stunned light fixed in his eyes, he stepped back and sat heavily down on the grimy wooden crate behind him. He knew beyond the shadow of any possible doubt that he had never seen that thin, bulging-eyed lad before in his life.

And yet somehow, he knew exactly who he was.

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Soon to be updated!


	2. The Revelation

**Family Reunion**

Pirates were rarely ones to concern themselves with time—excepting of course the tides and the moon's phases—and schedules and curfews were particularly unheard of. However, ten years of suffering with a lifeless ordeal had trained the _Pearl_'s crewmen to mind the countless minutes in a day, and when all eighteen of those who'd rowed ashore arrived back on the dock an hour later, Barbossa wasn't surprised.

Pintel cringed slightly as he bent down to lift another barrel of powder—curse or not, he would never have the luxury of forgetting his age. Squaring his jaw, he did his best to ignore the discomfort in his back and hoisted the five-liter barrel off the ground as quickly as possible. As he did so, the stocky pirate couldn't help but frown at his left hand, which now sported one less ring. Money meant nothing to the cursed crew at this point, but the right pieces of jewelry could mean money to any other pirate. And in their unforeseen need to make a purchase, the _Black Pearl_'s crewmen had each used their only available form of currency for the bartering.

Despite himself, Pintel smiled. Money meant nothing to him and his fellows—for now. It was a thought that had passed through each of their minds not a day ago, quicker than a heartbeat and long before Barbossa had ever announced it out loud to all of them: there was only one more gold piece left to find.

And that was why they'd been so eager to get their hands on more gunpowder.

Without a word, Pintel handed the barrel off to Twigg, then turned once again to pick up another one.

"Oi, Rags!" he grunted without looking up. "Put in a 'and 'ere, aye?"

But there was no response.

Puzzled, Pintel stopped and lifted his bald head. Rags wasn't one to ignore orders, at least not from him. Frowning in thought, the burly man momentarily deserted his task and glanced behind him at where the thin man should've been.

"Rags?" And just like that, his eyes were bulging with surprise.

Ragetti was gone.

At first, Pintel shot a look around at the cluster of crewmen in front of him, trying to pinpoint that one thin face. When this failed to give him any results, he spun around and proceeded to scan the bustling crowd of Hispaniola behind him. Another tense moment passed, and then at last, he caught sight of Ragetti's dirty blonde hair amongst the staggering bodies a considerable distance away.

And then Pintel saw the other man.

His angry fists clenched in an instant. It was the stranger. The man in the blue bandanna.

From where Pintel stood, he could see that the two were facing each other, though they both seemed vaguely wary of their situation. Ragetti's shoulders were hunched slightly, but he briefly raised his eyes from his fidgeting hands to acknowledge the older pirate. In turn, the strange man fiddled with the hem of his brown coat and spoke, earning a meek nod from Rags. They were having a conversation.

Pintel's face darkened as he understood. A conversation. A friendly chat between two old chums, or so it should have been. The bald pirate ground his rotten teeth. That slithering sot had given their crew nothing but trouble since their arrival, and he'd made that conflict even more personal after they'd stepped onto the docks—he had no right to have a conversation with Ragetti.

Another look of disgusted appeared on Pintel's face, and with a bitter kick at his discarded barrel, he set off to deal the filthy git's game an even fowler card.

But right as he did, something else happened that stopped him dead in his tracks.

The stranger took a step towards Ragetti, murmuring something inaudible, then lifting a heavy arm, he reached out…and placed his hand firmly on the young man's shoulder. Rags didn't even flinch at the contact; rather, he studied that hand through the corner of his good eye, and after a second's hesitation, he returned the gesture—with a smile.

Pintel just stared. What the blue blazes…What the devil…what was _that?_ That lousy blighter had reduced Ragetti to a cowering heap of shame just an hour ago, and now the two were a second away from bloody _embracing!_ What in Blackbeard's name was _that?_

It was the only thing the burly pirate could grasp right then: shock. It swarmed dizzily in his head, buzzing his ears and numbing a sickened part of him that even the curse hadn't touched. Rags had always found something to smile about, even throughout this ten-year nightmare, and whether he was entertaining himself with his gritty knife or a floundering, gasping fish, his dim-witted grin never changed. And yet…this time…_this_ smile…was different. There was happiness in it, but that happiness was subdued, and in its humbleness, the warm emotion gleamed even brighter in his single blue eye. This smile had purpose, and it was that deep, undeniable reason that made it seem even greater than Ragetti's widest grin.

At last, the two men released each other. They paused only once more to share a final, meaning-filled glance, and once that was done, they turned and slowly went their separate ways. Ragetti's gaze strayed to his feet as he made his way back to Pintel, and in that instant, the shorter man realized that his comrade's expression had lost all trace of its happiness. That thin face looked nothing but dazed; more so than it'd ever been before.

Pintel opened his mouth to speak, but any words he'd hoped to say died in his throat. What could he possibly say? He hadn't been there. He hadn't heard any of the stranger's words; only Ragetti had. And only Ragetti knew how to handle the emotions that they had left behind. Shifting his feet, Pintel nodded slightly and lowered his eyes.

His lanky friend barely regarded him in his state of bewilderment, and without even blinking his half-wooden gaze, he stumbled right past Pintel.

He was starting to wish he hadn't heard any of those words either.

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It wasn't until the _Black Pearl_ had left Hispaniola far behind her rudder that Pintel decided to break the silence.

He'd gotten used to the night. The whole crew had. None of them could ever forget the horror they'd felt the first time they'd seen themselves in the moonlight—the first time they'd seen themselves as these skeletal monsters—but ten years had taught them to accept it. Now, the _Pearl_'s crew regarded their decaying moonlit corpses almost as indifferently as their true forms. Even so, Pintel was silently grateful to see his leathery skin return to its natural form the moment he stepped below deck.

Finding Ragetti was an easy enough task; the scrawny pirate had wanted solitude, and the bilges at the very bottom of the ship rarely earned a thought from any of the crew, least a visit. Sure enough, the minute Pintel stepped off of the last wooden stair and into eight centimeters of water, he caught sight of his friend's spidery shape huddled on the floor just off to the left. Squaring his jaw, the older buccaneer came closer in the darkness and studied his subject's timid face.

"Wot's wif you?"

Ragetti's bulging eyes stared straight ahead, blind to their surroundings. "…Nuffin'."

Pintel arched one lifeless eyebrow. "Nuffin' bothers me too," he said dryly, recalling their earlier conversation.

The younger man made no response, but slowly lowered his head and scrunched his knobby knees a little closer to his chest. His point made, Pintel crossed the final distance to the grimy wall and carefully seated himself beside Ragetti.

There was another pause as he studied the shadowy thin face, then Pintel finally got to the point. "He said sumfin' to yeh, didn't 'e? That fellow on the docks?"

Ragetti nodded. More silence.

Pintel lifted both eyebrows and twitched his head impatiently. "…Well? Wot'd 'e say?"

The other pirate lowered his gaze even more, as if he were a small hermit crab trying to disappear inside its salvaged shell and be forgotten. But then he found his voice again and spoke.

"…We…talked 'bout stuff. What we been doin', where we been goin'. It was nice, talkin'."

But Pintel knew there had to be more to it than that. "…And that's why you're hidin' down 'ere?" he asked skeptically. "…Wot 'appened, Rags?"

When he received no answer, he pressed on. "Was 'e teasin' you 'bout yer eye?"

Discomfort suddenly gripped Ragetti's features, and he shook his head, still looking down. "No. We was just…talkin'…"

Pintel leaned closer, becoming even more impatient. "You ain't tellin' me everyfin', Rags. Wot else did yeh talk about? Why was 'e pattin' yeh on the shoulder like that?" His voice grew sharper then. "Who was 'e?"

So alone Ragetti looked as he sat there, lightly twitching in fear and bowing his head so low that it was almost between his knees. His nervous eyes shifted towards Pintel at the final question, and then at last, he sucked in a deep breath and said in a voice that was barely a whisper, **"**…He was me dad."

At first, Pintel didn't believe it. A smirk appeared on his weathered face, and the older man turned away slightly as a ridiculous laugh escaped. "Your dad," he repeated to himself, still grinning. Rags wouldn't know his old man from a bloody sea monster—the silly twit had never seen either before in his life. But when he saw the dead look on Ragetti's face, his chuckles faded away, and he realized the truth in those labored words.

Pintel gazed at the other deeply. "…Your _father?_"

Ragetti nodded again.

The bald pirate's eyes shifted away, trying to recall their encounter with the stranger, trying to bring back some small detail that could've been a clue. "…How could yeh tell?"

"He looked just like me," Ragetti murmured. "And his name were Ragetti too. Oscar Ragetti…"

The words slowly sank in, and Pintel frowned at his own poor observation. How could he not have noticed that same thin-cheeked, gawk-eyed face?

He nudged the matter aside, returning his attention to his friend. "…So what 'appened?"

"We _talked_," Ragetti said again. There was no sharpness in his voice at all from the constantly repeated explanation; only sadness for what lay ahead. "Catchin' up. He wanted t'come wif us…but I said Barbossa was gonna be mad 'cause of all them fings 'e said to 'im 'bout the boats b'fore. So he wanted t'go to the tavern for drinks an' talk more…but I told 'im I couldn't do that neither. Said I had t'get back to the boats right away."

It was then that he looked at Pintel for the first time. "The sun was startin' t'go down and all…"

Pintel set his lips flat and nodded, understanding the hidden message. "You didn't tell 'im."

Unsure of what else to do, Ragetti shrugged. "How would yeh even _go 'bout_ tellin' 'im? Prob'ly wouldn't've believed it anyway. _We_ didn't…" The young man's voice trailed off at the ten-year-old memory, and his throat tightened as he recalled undaunted laughter in Barbossa's voice as the captain had welcomed his crew to their shares of the shimmering Aztec treasure. And then, the memory of Oscar Ragetti's weary, regret-filled face reemerged into his mind, and the one-eyed pirate hurried to speak his last thought before his throat completely closed. "There was a lot of fings I wanted t'tell 'im—"

And just like that, Ragetti lost it. He hunched forward sharply, and quickly lifted an arm to press the back of his fist against his trembling lips, stifling a soul-wrenching whimper. Beside him, Pintel edged away slightly, caught off guard by this sudden display of emotion.

"Rags…" he said stiffly, shaking his head as if Ragetti's loss was nothing to be upset about. His discomfort growing, he cautiously reached over and nudged his mate's side dismissingly. "Come on."

But his mind was swarming with thoughts of that stranger on the docks as well. He felt a strange disappointment for his rebuke of the man, a guilt even. He couldn't even begin to imagine what the old fellow was thinking right now. What could a man possibly think of this? To have a child for so long and never know it, and then to suddenly meet him by chance or destiny, only to lose him again… it didn't seem to make sense at first.

Pintel lowered his gaze and grimly looked away. It didn't seem to make sense at all.

But then all of a sudden, just as quickly as he'd forgotten himself, Ragetti seemed to gain control again. He lifted his head, sniffling loudly, and a trace of the dopey smile from that afternoon returned.

"…But it's okay," he said, still choked despite his newfound cheer. "'Cause we's only got one more piece left to find. We get that, all we gotta do is find Bootstrap's child. Then no more curse, aye? Aye, Pinters?"

Pintel nodded, recovering at the return of this familiar optimism. Much better.

"Aye, that's right," he confirmed. "Give it a little more time, we'll 'ave the gold…and then we'll just keep lookin'." He nudged the youngster a little harder this time, more playfully. "We're gettin' there, Rags."

And just like that, Ragetti's grin grew huge, his grief forgotten. "So this is sorta it, then?" He bobbed his head for a cheerful moment, meeting his companion's gaze, then absent-mindedly reached up to rub the tears from his wooden eye. Pintel wrinkled his face a little at the wet and considerably loud creaking sound, but decided to ignore it. Just this once.

The bald pirate nodded, still gazing firmly at Ragetti. "Aye. This be it."

Rags looked ready to say more, but before he could get so much as a giggle out, the pair had company. A small object twitched suddenly, revealing its place behind the thin crewman, then a split second later, a flash of wet fur caught Pintel's eye and a tiny shape sprang out of the shadows with a blood-curdling shriek. Ragetti instinctively yelped and dove forward, falling face-first into the grimy water with a loud splash. Before the startling incident could even begin to register with Pintel, the lanky pirate leapt onto all fours and scrambled for the stairs like a panicked dog. Rags flew up the creaking steps, still terribly off balance, and then with a giddy, mindless cackle, he was gone.

An instant later, Jack the monkey pounced onto the lowest step and threw another piercing screech at Pintel. Back to work.

Pintel quickly stood up, baring his teeth at the disruptive fleabag, then watched as it hopped up the steps to return to its master. Before he followed, however, the stocky old sailor paused as he recalled Ragetti's final words to him. A light suddenly gleamed in his yellowed eyes with realization, and donning a mischievous smirk, the bald pirate hurried for the stairs with newfound vigor.

This was definitely it.

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THE END

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(Further insight as to what Ragetti was thinking of when he shouted "Suffered, I have!" in Curse of the Black Pearl, and why he started to sound a little put out when he mentioned Will "settling some unresolved business" with Bootstrap in Dead Man's Chest.)

(This story is sort of a prequel to my other P&R fanfics "Just the Way it Should Be," "A World of Changes," "Our Own Reason," and the up-coming "Paradise of the Mind" and "To Pass the Time." They work as Pintel and Ragetti's biographies if you read them all in that order.)


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